


Warm

by digitalcatnip



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Canon Compliant, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wolf's POV btw, Written before Hoxton's breakout missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalcatnip/pseuds/digitalcatnip
Summary: I don’t know what to summarize this with except “Wolf and Hoxton fuck” but I promise it’s more eloquent than that.  Not terribly explicit sex scene, so it's probably not worth rating E.





	Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I like to flex my flowery prose voice. Originally posted on Tumblr in 2014/2015, I can't remember. As always, this was pre-HoxOut missions and there was little canonical information provided, so this follows the fanon built by myself and a few others on Tumblr. This is post- "Kevlar Soul" and "Wake Up"/"As You Last Sleeping".
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr @cataouatche !

* * *

 

 

                It has been a long time.

                Love had not been on my mind in many, many years.   I did not think I would ever truly experience it again, and I was okay with that.  I had plenty of things to occupy my mind.  I was growing older, and my career change did not exactly allow for relationships.

                Yet, you always intrigued me.  You were loud, crude, quick to anger, but always there, at my back.  We were good friends, best friends even.  We took bullets for one another, literally.  You would laugh, and we would drink to ease the pain, then we’d wake up on the floor, wrapped around one another.  You never said a thing.

                You have gone through a lot these past few years.  I wish I could have helped you sooner, but you know what our lives are like.  We do not always control our own destinies, and instead must wait for others with more power than we have to bring us aid.

                Fortunately, you do not seem to hold it against me, as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor.  Your back is crisscrossed with scars, but you wear them like medals of honour.  It’s dark, I’m tired, smoking by the light of the cheap lamp on the floor, watching you undress for bed.

                You crawl in next to me, asking for a drag, so I hand off the fag to you and you take it, blowing smoke to the ceiling before putting it out and turning off the light.   You’re warm, and I’m tired.

                I try to roll over but you don’t let me, instead pulling me onto my back again.  I barely make out your silhouette in the darkness as you move onto my lap, leaning forward to press your mouth to mine.  You tell me you don’t want to sleep right now, running your hands along my sides.

                The first time I kissed you, you were lying in a hospital bed, wires and needles all over you, face pale and sunken, yet still you were the most beautiful thing I’d seen in years.  A month later and you still are.  The bruises faded, your head stopped hurting, you got stronger, and I fell deeper into the rabbit hole.

                It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.  You’ve been too ill to do much more than sleep, but you have felt better this week, you said, with that light in your eye.  I believed you.  I saw you in the range today, gun to your shoulder, jaw set.  I can smell the gunpowder on you still.

                You press your chest against mine, a few strands of your hair brushing my face.  My hands reach up and release the rest, letting it fall past your shoulders, framing your face.  My hands remain caught there, running through the soft blackness, marveling at how the moonlight catches it and sets your head aglow.

                I close my eyes and let you run your hands over me, returning the favour to you.  You are so warm, and it’s cold outside.  I don’t know what you see in me; I feel old sometimes, and I do not care much for my appearance.  Yet you are here, your breath heavy, lying on top of me, like I am your sun and stars.  I do not complain.

                Your mouth moves away from mine and moves to my neck, and you push yourself up, hands on my hips.  Your breath is warm, and the air is cold, and your fingers touch places I haven’t been touched by anyone else in several eternities.  You’re aggressive in the way you touch me, but I am not surprised.  You are aggressive in most of the things you do in life.  I like that about you.

                You ask what I want, and all I can say is “you.” 

                I can hear the smile in your laugh, and your weight shifts, one hand moving away from me.  I don’t know what you’re doing, and part of me wants it to remain a mystery.  My eyes stay closed.

                You don’t say anything to me, but the sound of your breathing is music in my ears.  I find myself short of breath at your touch, pushing into your hands involuntarily.  I have not felt like this in years, and I want nothing more than to lose myself in you.

                As if you read my mind, your weight shifts again, and any air in my lungs rushes out as you push onto me, face returning to mine to kiss me again, hands holding my face.  I hold you close to me, feeling your warmth.  I am not longer cold.  I am no longer tired.

                I wish I had known you when we were younger, when you were still gripping the stocks of rifles owned by drug lords, your hair pulled tight, the paint under your skin fresh.  Even though I know we would never have crossed then, I still wonder, would I have found you beautiful?  Would I be competing with another lover?

                You’ve had lovers before, I can tell in the way your hips move, the way your tongue dances against mine, the way your hands move confidently across my skin.  You’ve had years to make this natural, graceful, expert.  I have not.  My hands feel clumsy on your body, and I forget to move with you.  You don’t seem to mind, but I feel childish.  I apologize, but you laugh and tell me to shut up, because you don’t care.  I’ll remember soon enough; it’s like riding a bike.

                You tell me you’re tired, it’s my turn.  You get tired easily these days; you are not fully healed.  You pull me over on top of you, wrapping your legs around my hips.  You’re looking up at me, eyes black in the dim light, but I can still tell your face is flushed.

                I begin to think that maybe I am not so out of practice as I think, because you push your head back, your breath becomes louder, and your back arches up against me.  Your fingers dig into my legs, and I have trouble thinking.

                You don’t say anything to me, just nails into my skin, body contorting under my weight, teeth grinding together as your muscles tense abruptly, then relax, breath escaping your lungs in quick, heavy gasps.  I stare in awe at your face, so perfect in the moonlight, slightly to one side, eyebrows tense as your ride the waves of your climax to the end.  You tense again, and I relent to the stars behind my own eyes.

               

 

                There is always some cleaning up to do, and when you crawl back into bed with me you curl your body around mine and press your face into my neck.  You had to take some medicine because your head hurt, but you would be fine in the morning.   I believe you, even though I can feel your eyebrows tense.

                I hold you close to me, and I breathe in the smell of your hair.  You tell me you love me, kissing my neck, and a chill goes down my neck. I will never grow used to you saying that to me.  I reply in the language I knew first.  You try to repeat it to me, but your tongue has forgotten how to make the words.  You laugh at yourself, and I hold you tight.

                We say nothing.  I watch your face, light painting you pale silver.  Eventually I hear your breathing deepen, feel your hands go limp.  I close my eyes and let myself drift away.

                You are warm, and I love you.


End file.
